Cold God
by Edgar Night
Summary: After cleaning up the mess left by the nanogenes in 1941, the Doctor, Rose, and Jack decide to go "somewhere nice". But their plans are soon interrupted... Rated T for violence and maybe a bit of torture. Maybe. R&R, plzkthanxbai. :D


Cold God

A/N: I do not own Doctor Who, but since there's no copyright on Scandinavian history, I'm going to be a dork and say this:

PUNY HUMANS! NORSE HISTORY IS MINE, ALL MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!

Ok. Now that lie is out of my system... let's go!

Beta'ed by the wonderful Kathryn Shadow. ^_^

1

Whispers

The Doctor opened the TARDIS door and bowed as Rose strode inside. She actually didn't stride so much as dance and skip. The Doctor waved to Nancy and followed Rose in, happy to have averted his first zombie apocalypse of the week. Now to avoid having an apocalypse to avert in the first place. That would be nice.

So happy he was, he couldn't help nattering on about how things would go after they left 1941. When could he ever help nattering on, anyway?

"Look at you, beamin' away like you're Father Christmas!" Rose laughed.

"Who say's I'm not—red bicycle when you were twelve."

"Wot?"

He ignored that. "And everybody lives, Rose! Everybody lives! I need more days like this," he added.

"Doctor..."

"Go on, ask me anything. I'm on _fire_!"

"What about Jack?" Rose said. "Why'd he say goodbye?"

Geh. That wasn't the "ask me anything" the Doctor had had in mind. He was in a "_Woohoo! Let's have a karaoke party on Saturn!_" mood, not an "answering sad questions" mood. So instead of replying he just snatched the coordinates for the captain's ship and put on some music. He grinned in the cheekiest way possible.

"While we wait..." he said. He raised his eyebrows.

Rose bounced a little and wasted no time in starting a waltzing lesson—despite the fact that the Doctor had learned to waltz from four different teachers on three different planets. He'd never been terribly fond of the dance, especially now, when he was so full of happy, springy goodness. An Irish jig would have been much more suitable to his mood, but the Doctor let Rose "teach" him to waltz.

Every mistake he made was, of course intentional, a way to protest the dull dance. He wasn't going to let Rose know, however. Stifling his mischievous smirk was so very difficult when she complained about the half-Nelson he had "accidentally" performed. He was about to apologise when he heard a voice on the other side of the TARDIS doors—something about executioners. The TARDIS—clever girl!—opened the doors herself. It took Jack several seconds to turn around in his control chair because he was busy toasting to the computer.

"Well, hurry up, then!" Rose called out when Jack finally looked.

A roguish grin spreading across his face, Captain Jack Harkness stood up and ran inside the TARDIS.

"Close the door!" the Doctor said. "Your ship's about to blow up, there'll be a draft!"

_Draft_. They had just left World War Two, and he had said there would be a _draft_. Cor, that was a good pun. The Doctor gave himself a mental clap on the back, even though neither Rose nor Jack seemed to notice the fantastic joke. Ah, well. He who laughs last thinks slowest. Since no one had laughed, that just made him the fastest thinker on board.

As if he didn't already know that, of course.

"It's bigger on the inside," Jack commented as Rose went to greet him.

_I hadn't noticed, _the Doctor thought with a mental roll of his eyes. "It'd better be," he said aloud, thinking of how very cramped and uncomfortable having three people in one little police box would be, especially with two dancing and one being Jack.

"I think he means you can cut in," Rose said, eyes twinkling.

_Do not!_ the Doctor thought indignantly. As Rose was about to start a dance with Jack, the Doctor gritted his teeth and boogied.

"Hey, Rose! I've just remembered!"

Rose turned, a frown of confusion changing to a grin when she saw what the Doctor was doing.

"I can dance!"

"I think Jack wants this dance," she replied hesitantly.

"Yes, but who with?" The Doctor let Rose and Jack make of that what they would; for now, he just wanted to share a dance with her. And she took it.

~ — ~

"So," the Doctor said when Rose grew tired, "'choo wanna have a go at next?" He put up a hand before Jack could even open his mouth. "Anywhere in particular? I'm ready for a bit of down-time."

Rose grinned. "Running for your life does take it out of ya, dunnit?" She bit her lip in thought. "Somewhere nice."

"That narrows the field!" the Doctor grinned back. "Now we have eight million options instead of twelve."

"Well," said Rose, "maybe you could show a list?"

"We'd spend the next ten years reading a list of planets!" protested Jack.

"You could always skim," suggested the Doctor. "Then it would only take eight years."

"Great idea," Jack replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Here," said Rose, exasperated with the two men, "y'know, I've always fancied visiting Asia."

"Lovely scenery," agreed the Doctor. "Though I'd rather not run into Confucius again—that bloke was a terrible bore and the thought he knew _everything_." He made a face.

"Know-alls," Rose said in an understanding voice. "Terrible."

"Glad you sympathise."

"Shall we, then?" Rose said.

"Hate to break it to you," Jack said, "but 'Asia' isn't much more specific than 'somewhere nice'. Kind of a big continent, you know?"

"The TARDIS'll drop us in a good spot. She's a smart lass—aren't ya?" the Doctor patted the console paternally, and then promptly began to set the course. "Silk Road sounds nice, yeah? Let's go to ol' China's heyday." He grinned at his passengers. "This is going to be fantastic."

And so the TARDIS careened through the Vortex in a manner the Doctor could only classify as giddy. Happy Time Lord; happy timeship. Simple as pie. He liked pie.

Jack left the control room to explore the TARDIS, and Rose sat on the floor with a wide smile on her face. The Doctor bounced on his heels, humming to himself.

"What's that you're humming?" Rose inquired, tilting her head a centimetre or so to the left.

"No idea!" the Doctor answered brightly.

"Then why's it playing in the speaker?" Rose said with a frown, pointing to a little intercom behind him.

The Doctor stopped humming and listened. Yes, the tune playing in the speaker was the same as the one he had just been humming. No, the song was not one that had ever been recorded. Then why were the notes following, quite perfectly, the path he had only just now thought up?

The hummer was female and youngish. She sounded like a low soprano. Her hum turned into a haunting, wordless song.

"Déjà-vu," muttered the Doctor. "Something _else_ that messes with speakers that aren't supposed to work. That intercom hasn't functioned... honestly, I can't remember the last time it—"

"Doctor," interrupted the woman in a low, sharp whisper. "Doctor."

"At least she knows who she's looking for," Rose half-joked.

"Doctor."

"What?" the Doctor demanded.

"Help us, Doctor. Postpone—" Static. "—and help us. We can't—" Static. "—and we need—" Static. "—please. Doctor."

The TARDIS jerked to the right and abruptly stopped, sending the Doctor to the floor.  
"Help us, Doctor," the woman whispered.


End file.
